


"You'll be unmuzzled, you certainly will."

by MythicalCypressWater



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: All dinosaurs love Owen Grady, BAMF Owen Grady, Barry is a good bro, Cute Claire and Owen friendship, Gen, I am horrible at tagging, Not planned and will probably suck ass, Owen Grady Loves the Raptor Squad, Owen Grady angst, Owen Grady is a Science Experiment, Owen Grady is a Weapon, Raptor Squad, Raptor Squad (Jurassic Park) Lives, Raptor Squad loves Owen Grady, Raptor Training (Jurassic Park), There is way less raptor bonding than there should be in this fic, goddamn, let him rest, poor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalCypressWater/pseuds/MythicalCypressWater
Summary: Owen Grady's life was simple. Everything was fine. At least it was until a face from the past begins working at the Park.
Comments: 72
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

Humid, jungle air wrapped tightly around Owen despite the swift speed he was riding his motorcycle at. It was a rather lovely evening on Isla Nublar. After a successful day with the raptor pack, he decided to head down to the main Park area to see if his friends were avaiable. The boisterous sqwaks of tropical birds coasted down to greet his trained ears bringing a small smile to his face.

Finally arriving, Owen kicked off his vehicle and parked it in his designated area. He navigated his way through the noisy crowds dodging young children and their stressed parents. Swerving between groups of people that would occasioanlly stare longer than he liked, Owen made his way towards the closest attraction. One of his good friends Sydney was the trainer of the mosasaur. Eying the fact that she was in the middle of a show, he resigned himself to go check on the T-Rex trainer, Lauren. 

Straightening his shoulders and loitering for a few more seconds to see M leap from the water, Owen began the trek eastward to the T-Rex exhibit. Expectedly, Lauren was still hosting a large group of guests. She paused midsentence before covering it with a cough casually as she continued. Her eyes, however, lingered on his. Lauren nodded once and gestured her head to the side, indicating she was almost done. 

As promised, Owen had to wait only a few minutes before Lauren was smiling as she waved her group out. "Have a great evening everyone! And I'll remind you that staff hours begin in twenty minutes! Come back to visit Sue and me soon!"

He waited until the chattering visitors cleared out before approaching the brunette. 

"Ah, staff hours, gotta love 'em!" Lauren groaned.

Owen chuckled good naturedly, "You and Sydney were heroines for suggesting them. C'mon, we gotta go get her. Her show should be over."

Lauren threw her hands into the air, running passed the ex-navy soldier whilst squealing, "Margaritas!"

* * *

"Owen! Lauren! Its great to see you, you assholes!" Called Sydney, wiping her hands off with a pale blue rag. 

"Syd, as courteous as ever," Owen said, tipping a pretend hat towards her. 

The brown haired woman laughed, hugging Lauren before repeating the action with Owen.

Lauren wrinkled her nose is disdain, glancing her best friend over. "You smell gross."

"And you smell like a goat. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Alright, ladies. As much as I love a good chick fight, we need to fetch our darling Claire," laughed Owen as he wrapped his arms around his fellow trainers' shoulders.

The trio set off at a meandering pace knowing that Claire would probably be finishing something up since she was the Park Operations Manager. They delighted in the disappearing crowd though Owen had a firm suspicion it was for two different reasons.

Despite loving their jobs, Sydney and Lauren had to deal with a lot of know-it-all jackasses everyday. They were constantly surrounded by people so they perpetually had to maintain a perfect facade to represent the company. Owen just didnt have a particular inclination to be near so many unfamiliar persons. It made him tense and uncomfortable. His mind still attempted to overanalyze everything which just kept Owen on an eternal edge.

* * *

Knowing that Claire was most likely located at the control room, the three headed in that direction. Eventually they grew tired of walking, so Owen stole- _borrowed_ a Park issued golf cart by hotwiring it. 

Their designation was a significant way away from the rest of the park, and Owen decided that it was logical to have borrowed the golf cart. Lauren and Sydney were giggling in the back where they were hanging off the sides as a dare. They kept asking, well more like commanding, Owen to go faster.

"Alright," he warned, "But if one if you die, I never even knew a dinosaur park existed!"

"Deal!" They both shouted at the same time. Sydney and Lauren had a habit of finishing one another's sentences. They were convinced it was because they were soul sisters.

***

Owen, Lauren, and Sydney all hustled into the elevator and when it finally reached their favored floor, Owen growled.

"What?" asked Sydney, used to Owen's weirdly supernatural senses.

"Hoskins," He spat venomously. Owen could hear the man's obnoxious laughter from the lift. He prayed to anything with ears that the Ingen security leader wasn't hassling Claire because if he was, Owen couldn't say he'd be responsible for his actions.

Lauren dragged out an aggravated sigh, "I hate that dude."

"Don't we all," Owen responded quietly as the door shifted open.

Ignoring everyone else, he briskly stepped over to Vivian and Lowery upon seeing that Claire was not in the room. They weren't close to him, but they were acquaintances… _friends_ even. 

"Where's Claire?" He asked lowly.

Lowery jumped, glancing up at Owen from where he had been sipping on an unnamed drink.

"Jeez," he laughed shortly, "Give me a heart attack, why don't you? She just went into a meeting room to finish talking with a new guy." 

Owen nodded in acceptance, taking note of his two girls sauntering over to Vivian to undoubtedly gossip with her. 

"And what's Hoskins doing here?"

"Oh, he's with-" Lowery was cut off by a firm voice Owen had hoped he would never hear again.

"Grady, my boy, is that really you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi, lovelies! How is everyone doing?

Owen tensed.

_No, it couldn't be-_

Silence.

The control room was silent. It was void of it's usual clamor, chatter, pinging and the clacking from typing. Out of his peripheral vision, Owen saw Claire move closer, a hand extended as though to grab his arm. Steeling himself, he turned around to avoid any more unwanted attention.

Admiral Elijah Grayson looked nearly the exact same. His gray hair was trimmed into a crisp buzzcut, the deep lines of age and stress still marred his face, his blue eyes were strict, his shoulders straighter than a homophobic. The mere sight of the man sent white-hot rage striking into his stomach and bubbling there. A distant, unfamiliar feeling simmered right along with it. Some part of Owen knew it was fear, but fear was not something he wanted to feel. So instead he decided to just be angry. 

"Grady," Grayson crowed, voice as low as Owen remembered. 

He was clapped on the shoulder suddenly, a handshake being forced from him. Owen didn't say anything. It was all he could do not to hoist the man into the air and slam him against the wall. 

Claire, noting the awkward, tense silence spoke hesitantly, "You know Admiral Grayson, Owen?" 

Owen clenched his teeth to restrain the snarl unfolding in his chest, shimmying up his throat. "You could say that."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Grayson, throwing an arm around his shoulders, "I was his admiral back in the day, ain't that right, boy?"

Owen clenched his fist, fixating his eyes on the wall in front of him. He couldn't believe Grayson was working at Jurassic World. Owen covered his tracks carefully, he retired, he got out. Why the hell did the psycho follow him?! 

Glancing quickly at Sydney, he could tell she knew something was up by the look on her face, the fire in her eyes. Judging by the fact that Lauren had slowly, discreetly shifted forward, Owen assumed she thought something was wrong too. 

Hoskins barked a laugh, "You controlled Grady back in his Navy days? Ha, maybe you can get him in check now."

Owen's fist tightened. A wetness erupted from his palm and peeking at his hand, he saw the crimson freshness of blood glittering along his limb from the crescent shaped marks on his hand. He released his tense fist, trying to roll his shoulders into a relaxed state. Wiping his hand on his already dirty pants, he stepped away from Grayson and forced himself to speak.

"It's good to see you again."

"You too, my boy. It's damn good to see your face. Haven't changed much, eh? Still got the ladies swooning?" 

Claire chose then to enter the conversation, clearing her throat. "Its lovely that you two have reunited, but Owen, some friends of ours, and I have dinner reservations we must attend. So, if you'll excuse us..."

She had clearly picked up on his discomfort because he was being waltzed out the room followed by light footsteps moments later.

***

The three girls attempted to ask questions that were burning in their brains, but when they did, Owen just walked faster.

Eventually, they arrived at a beloved restaurant where they sat outside. A refreshing breeze was coasting through the air as they sat. They didn't actually have reservations, Claire just made that up to give them a quick excuse to leave.

Owen still couldn't believe it. Admiral Grayson just so happened to retire from his position and come work at the _exact_ same dinosaur park? It was suspicious. 

He ordered whiskey straight when the waitress popped by to get their order.

"Owen, dude, what's up with Mr. Creepy in there?" Sydney asked, eyes peering over the rim of the glass she had fluently swiped from someone's hand. It seemed she couldn't wait. 

"I don't like him," Lauren frowned, crossing her arms. She had a bit of a protective problem. 

"Why were you acting like that around him?" Claire asked in concern. 

Owen didn't want to answer their questions. He didn't think he could without letting on what happened between the two all those years ago. Grayson was sick bastard. Whatever he was planning that landed him on Isla Nublar could hardly be good.

"Why'd you say that Matt couldn't come out this week?" He deflected. 

* * *

"Hey, Mattie. How are ya?"

Matt trained the Apatosaurus and was a close companion of Owen's friend group. He had been unavailable all week because the matriarch of the herd had fallen ill.

"Owie?" asked an exhausted sounding voice.

"That's me, bud. I brought sustenance."

Matt stumbled over looking thoroughly beaten. "I love you."

Owen laughed, glad for something normal in his recently hectic life. He held out the sandwich bag and water bottle, walking over to the sick apatosaur that dominated the floor from where she was strewn out.

"How's your girl doing?' he asked.

"She's okay. Doc said it was just the human equivalent of a bad cold, but I'm going to stay here until she's on her feet again. The herd is confused."

"I would imagine so," Owen muttered, stroking a hand down the beautiful beast's head/neck area.

Her intelligent eyes pierced him, the labored breathiness rising from her chest, the strain of her face. Oh, yeah. She was sick.

"Have you slept?"

Matt held up a finger and quickly finished chewing. "I'll doze a bit now an' then, but I don' wanna leave my girl alone." 

Owen huffed a gentle laugh. Coming here was a good idea. He was glad that it took his mind off of... things. "I know the feeling."

"So? How are your ladies?"

"They are perfectly well, I'll have you know."

"Really? They aren't sick of you yet?" 

Matt shouted in surprise at the towel Owen had rapidly flung across the room when it hit him square in the face. 

"I hate you."

"I brought you food."

"I'm indifferent towards you."

Owen stood up and dusted his hands off against his pants after giving the dino one last pet. The creature in question mewled as his hand left and she began moving around. Owen smiled and thought about his own girls.

"I swear you have a way with them," Matt marveled now done with his sandwich and leaning against a nearby wall.

"I didn't do anything," Owen defended.

"Exactly."

* * *

Grayson caught Owen in a niche during park hours during late morning.

"Grayson, I swear to God-" Owen growled, rearing his arm back to punch him.

"Ah ah," the man admonished, gesturing subtly to the security camera that had view of them. 

Great. He thought this out. Owen knew it wasn't a coincidence. Chances were that Grayson had invented an elaborate lie about how he saw Owen and wanted to catch up with him a bit, but it was so crowded he pulled the younger man into an alcove. He would probably even go as far as to say that Owen almost punched him because of Navy reflex training. 

"What the hell do you want?" he snarled instead.

"Just wanted to catch up with you, my boy. Dropped off the grid for a bit, didn't you?" There was something dangerous in his eyes. A threat.

"Sorry I forgot to call. I was busy running from you." Owen retaliated, rocking on his feet, tense and ready to escape or fight at any moment.

Grayson chuckled. "Now, now, boy, there was never a reason for that."

"Like hell there wasn't." 

"We've missed you."

"You missed your puppet."

"Come back, Grady. There's no need for force. I won't even be mad. We need you. You were so beneficial."

"Beneficial?" Owen chuckled harshly, "You operated out of grounds. You had no orders from the government. What you did was illegal. If anything, you deserve to be in jail trying to make friends with big, bad murderers."

"If I deserve to be there, so do you. More so even, if I remember correctly. And if I deserve to be locked up, then why aren't I? Why didn't you call the FBI or something'?" 

Owen was silent. His fingers twitched, his body shuddered. He couldn't left this, this _man_ get him back in throws of that sick operation. He wanted to leave all that behind, wanted to forget it ever happened. 

"Because you know this is the winning side," Grayson continued, "Why not join it while you're welcomed?"

"I'd rather die," Owen bit out, knocking shoulders with Grayson roughly as he stalked past him.

What he didn't know was that the security camera had audio.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beauties!

"Huh. That's weird."

Claire glanced up from where she was bent over discussing monthly rates with two technicians. "What's weird?"

Lowery typed slowly on his keyboard. He was watching his monitor whilst attending to the keyboard every now and then. "The security camera near the café just sent an alert to the control room."

"Why's that weird?" she asked a bit expectantly.

"The cameras are programmed to only alert CR if there's any violence," Vivian answered for him. "Which rarely happens."

"And this one's in a niche. It's mostly just there in case of a robbery or something." Lowery sipped from his drink and adjusted a toy dinosaur on his dashboard. "Which, like Viv said, rarely happens."

Vivian reached over and typed something on Lowery's keyboard and suddenly, surprisingly good quality from a security camera popped up on the main screen that occupied the front of the room.

"Owen?" Claire gasped in confused surprise.

"Oh, he does _not_ look happy," Lowery said with a side glance.

"When's this- when's this from?"

"It's live, miss." A young woman, Felicity, commented. 

"Does Owen not like his admiral?" Vivian asked.

Claire watched the screen intently, trying to figure out what was going on. Grayson and Owen seemed to be in a tense and rage filled conversation. 

"They didn't appear too buddy-buddy yesterday." A male whose name Claire was unfamiliar with pointed out.

_"Sorry I forgot to call. I was busy running from you."_

"What the hell does that mean?" Claire outburst, not caring that it was hardly professional.

"I don't think Grayson and Grady indulged the rest of us on the full extent of their relationship," Lowery said with furrowed eyebrows. "This is better than any reality show I've ever seen."

Claire nearly... well she didn't know what she nearly did, but hearing Owen, her close friend, bite _You missed your puppet_ with clear hostility almost led her to do something extreme. 

"What the actual hell is happening?" she exploded. "Come back? The winning side? Is this a joke?"

"Do you want me to call island security?" Vivian asked hesitantly.

"No, no," Claire breathed deeply. "No, that's quite alright, Vivian. Thank you."

Chatter broke out amongst the room and Claire couldn't help but catch snip bits of the of the conversations.

"Grady is hot as _hell_ when he's mad," a man said to a group of girls he was chatting with.

"A mysterious macho man with a dark past? Sign me up."

* * *

"Claire!" Lauren called, standing from where she was sitting at a table with Sydney and Matt. "Why'd you need to talk to us? Did you hear that Matt's matriarch is better?"

"No, I-" Claire swallowed her irritability. "No, I didn't, but that's great news. Long time no see, Matt. I actually have to talk to you about Owen."

Sydney's face darkened with a scowl. "Is this about that dumbass Grayson?"

"Yes, it kind of is."

"Grayson?" Matt questioned, face contorted in confusion. "Who the Hades is Grayson?"

Lauren sighed exasperatedly. "You missed a lot."

"Well, you can explain to him on the way. I have something I need to show you."

* * *

Owen scooped another handful of water from the bucket and rubbed off some crimson stained blood that had dried on his arm courtesy of meal time. He wailed his hands around to expel excess water and walked over to Blue who was watching him closely. 

"Hello, Pretty Girl," he commented, rubbing her snout. 

She chirped a few times, releasing a purring noise and Owen sighed as he let her presence relax him. He knew Grayson was going to cause him a grow a few gray hairs, but this was ridiculous.

Trying to recruit him to join their sick, little team again? Owen barely escaped the first time and spent a good deal trying to get Grayson's men off his back. He was done being controlled. Done being told what he had to do without any say in the matter. Without free will.

The other three pack members joined them soon and Charlie interjected a concerned sounding noise. 

Owen sighed again. "Tell me about it."

He collapsed to the ground, resting against the bars. Owen felt too drained to muster up enough strength to actually get up and open the door. His girls seemed to understand because they just nestled down behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, yes, I am aware this is short and mostly dialogue but i'm not in the writing mood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hi, guys? I know I took longer than usual to update, but I just wasn't in the mood. Y'all know how it is, right? Despite that, here I am! 12 days later... Now remember to be safe with the coronavirus going around, but don't go crazy. If the world ends, wiping your ass will be the least of your problems. Hopefully, I can supply you a few minutes worth of entertainment while we're all on quarantine. Lots of love, MCW

"Well, that was dramatic."

Claire zeroed in on Lauren. She was the first to say anything during and/or after the video that the manager showed the trio. Matt was staring on in pure confusion despite having been given a play by play of what happened while he was playing Castaway with his dinosaur. Sydney's face showed nothing, but through the violent tapping of her foot and her arms that were crossed with clear animosity, it was obvious to figure out she was pissed. 

"Wait, wait, wait. So Mr. Stand Straight over there is causing Owen to act weird?" Matt asked, passing a hand through his dark hair. He was seated on the pristine, cream colored chair Claire had placed before her office desk for visitors. Only the trainer was just casually resting on the arm.

Claire pursed her lips, but didn't remark his manners. If he ruined her chair, she would just get a new one.

"Did you not get that from the tape?" snapped Sydney angrily. 

Lauren made a face at her and the other woman sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "Sorry, sorry. Ugh, this is just bothering me. This Grayson dude gives me the creeps. I have a bad feeling about this entire situation." 

Claire paused, waiting to see if anyone else was going to speak. When no one did, she metaphorically grasped the talking stick and said, "Well, there's only one thing to do now."

* * *

Owen whistled sharply, calling for attention from his girls. As one, Blue, Echo, Delta, and Charlie snapped their lethal heads up to their alpha. 

"Blue!" Owen called, tossing her a large, white, limp rat.

"Echo, this ones for you, girl!"

And so their daily training routine went.

"Today was a good day." Barry smiled as he flung an arm around his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah," Owen laughed. "At least no one fell in the enclosure."

He tried to imagine what would happen if an employee ever was to be bestowed that unfortunate fate. Sure, his girls listened to him well. They understood one another. They were _one,_ but that relationship was kept under lock and key. It was one of the reasons Owen never sent in his reports. That, and he just didn't like Hoskins.

Owen was positive that Hoskins was a part of some scheme that involved Admiral Elijah Grayson. Could it really be a coincidence that Grayson found him and just so happened to be working closely with the Ingen security leader? The thought of Grayson sent white hot spikes of emotion stabbing Owen in the gut. Anger? Foreboding? Fear? All three rolled into a surprise burrito?

Shaking off the intruding wave length, Owen bid Barry goodbye and stepped towards his motorcycle. He had yet to eat yet that day and by the time it reached 1:00 P.M in the scorching, Central American sun, Owen was ready for some fuel. He should also probably wash his hands considering the fact that he had just been handling a bucket of dead rats.

Just as Owen reached his vehicle, a gleaming, white suburban pulled up, gravel crunching noisily beneath the tires. Owen loved that sound. He recognized it as Claire's car so he stepped away from his motorcycle and sauntered towards it.

Out stepped Matt, Lauren, Sydney, and,of course, Claire. He smiled.

"Hey, guys. Matt! How's your matriarch?"

"Oh, she's great!" announced Matt happily. "Cleared right up just like Doc said."

Claire clearing her throat interrupted his excitement. 

"Right," Matt simply said, face toning down to a neutral expression.

"Woah, woah, woah. Why do you all look like you're about to throw a bag over my head and call it a day?" Owen scoffed a bit tentatively. He didn't like how his four friends were looking at him. It put him on a sharp edge that was threatening to crumble.

"We need to talk to you, Owen," Sydney said, arms wrapped around herself, eyes squinting to create an angry look. And that was that.

Owen's playful demeanor evaporated as he began to run a mental check list of everything that he had recently done. "No one died, did they?"

The four shared a look which did nothing to quench the queasy sloshing in his stomach. Owen didn't have much of an appetite anymore. This conversation was ominously taunting him and he didn't like it.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?"

* * *

Claire, Matt, Sydney, and Lauren took Owen to a more private place and explained what they were building up such a pretense to. His heart turned to ice the moment they mentioned the security camera. They saw? Owen didn't give the group time to figure anything out. He wasn't going to drag them into his messed up past with Grayson just because he couldn't control his facial expressions and body language.

So Owen laughed, said it was nothing. Said that the admiral and the trainer had an argument before Owen retired. Said what they heard was out of context. Played it off when they asked what the context was. 

Owen couldn't let them know.

So when the four other staff members gave him clear looks of disbelief, Owen glanced at his watch and mentioned that his lunch break was over and he needed to return to work. Matt, Sydney, Lauren, and Claire all agreed, although it was reluctant, so Owen asked if they wanted to meet for Staff Hours just to make everything seem normal.

Owen could handle this.

His secret would go to the grave with him.

***

Owen sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to go meet with his friends no matter how much he loved them. He _wanted_ to lie in his bed for a week and _maybe_ disappear into the jungle with his Raptor Squad somewhere along the line. 

However, Owen had an appearance to keep, so he succumbed himself to misery and was about to trudge inside his bungalow in order to freshen up when he heard grass crunching beneath the tread of boots. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Grayson," Owen growled, "Go away."

"That's no way to talk to your superior, boy."

"No, it's not. So if you see him, why don't you tell me so I can change my tone." Sharp, to the chase.

Grayson chuckled. "You're still arrogant, I see."

Owen paused, spinning around to finally face the man. "Just because someone doesn't like you, doesn't mean they're arrogant. I honestly think it says more about your own personality."

Grayson loosened an angered breath, but Owen knew the man. He wasn't going to lose control. "Come on, Grady. We're still willing to let you join."

Owen grit his teeth. _No security camera this time,_ he thought.

"I'd rather join a protest saying feathers deserve rights."

Grayson stepped closer, shifting ever so slightly on his feet. Owen was standing on his stairs which unveiled an obvious height difference. It was making the admiral uncomfortable. Good.

"We still have your suit."

Grayson's words had the desired affect. Owen stiffened. 

"I'll never willingly join you." The raptor trainer forced passed his lips like a death sentence. He turned around; a clear dismissal. 

"Good thing I don't need you willing." Grayson commented as Owen felt a sharp prick to his neck.

Too bad he wasn't going to show up for staff hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW if it wasn't obvious I imagined this to take place like the next day *shrugs*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my beautiful Mythical Children! How is everyone doing? I hope you are well and safe. Also, don't forget to take care of yourself. Eat, sleep, drink water and try to not die of boredom!

_Number 17 adjusted his cuff links as he surveyed the bustling room. The large gala room was elegant in all its finery. Mother of Pearl floors, pristinely pale table clothes draped over the circular tables, a black quartz bar, and tall, chiseled columns placed strategically about the area. He had a striking feeling, low and innate, burning spitefully in his gut that he would not have liked this place._

_Polite and feminine laughter echoed throughout the ground level floor which only served as a reminder that this was solely a women-only gathering. 17 was there under the poise that he was a bodyguard for one of the fine ladies. Bodyguards and the trio of bartenders were the only men that could be sighted in the room. 17 respectively noted the female bodyguards that stood with their hawk like eyes trained on their own employers._

_With a resigned but prepared sigh, 17 flung himself into the crowd, sauntering over to the bar. He could not allow himself to even become tipsy, so he would be doing no drinking that night. A woman with sharp features and light, honey-brown hair was stretched across the counter. She smiled at the bartender as she playfully released his tie. The man shuffled off to make her ordered drink._

_"A pleasure," 17 said, "To acquaint myself with such a fine woman."_

_The beautiful lady glanced him up and down with an appreciative smirk. "Likewise," she hummed. "Do tell me which of these ladies managed to snatch you up."_

_17 smiled openly as he purposefully dragged his eyes across the full room. He had no one he was actually protecting. "My mistress prefers to remain discreet. She's paranoid like that."_

_The woman accepted her sherry temple with an air of natural grace. "She sounds like an intelligent woman."_

_She examined 17 scrutinizingly. "So, do you have a name?"_

_Name._

_He only knew he was called Number 17._

_He did not have a name._

_Why didn't he have a name?_

_He covered himself with cool collectiveness. "That would take the fun out of things, wouldn't it?"_

_"I never did fancy a mystery."_

_"My name is Chris."_

_The unnamed woman hummed appreciatively, taking another sip. "Well, weren't you just created in the heavens, darling? I myself am called Josephine, but stick around a bit longer and you can call me Jo." She grabbed his tie, a signature move it seemed, and bit her lip seductively._

_Perfect._

_"A dance?" 17 offered._

_Josephine smiled in amusement, mirth lighting her sapphire eyes. "Will you be able to watch your mistress?"_

_17's smile was feline ad feral, well practiced and well used. "You'll find I'm incredibly good at multitasking."_

_Josephine allowed her smile to grow victoriously as she gripped his hand to lead him onto the dance floor._

_17 slipped one of his hands into her own while his other slithered around her waist. Shit, she wasn't the right woman. His mission was to locate a lady whose name was unknown and face unseen. All he was aware of was that she went by the alias The Devil's Temptress and she had an important flash drive on her person, supposedly hidden in her dress._

_17 fluidly drifted across the dance floor as he secretly searched the women. It was refreshing and a bit strange to view so many pairs of ladies dancing together with a man thrown in here and there. He just hoped The Devil's Temptress was on the actual dance floor and not floating elsewhere in the room. That would make things difficult._

_17 found himself in the arms of a new woman with hair darker than the night and eyes bluer than the oldest iceberg. She was undoubtedly beautiful._

_"Hello, handsome," she purred._

_He made a show of glancing her over before meeting her striking eyes. "What a lovely woman you are. The goddess Aphrodite would be put to shame."_

_She laughed gently and eloquently. "I don't suppose you treat all your lady friends in such a manner?"_

_This time, it was 17's turn to purr. "Only the ones I like."_

_Turns out, the raven haired beauty was The Devil's Temptress. However, as 17 slipped the flash drive from its hidden compartment, her manicured hand gripped his like a vice. He didn't let it deter him. With agility that was so unhuman it was creepy, 17 reversed the position to hold her in a vulnerable stage. The woman just retaliated by swiftly striking him with her heeled foot, driving 17 backwards._

_Suddenly, nearly every man and woman in the room turned to watch them, eyes zeroing in on 17. It was a trap. She knew someone was going to try to steal her flash drive. He sprinted towards the bathroom where he hid a bag full of explosives underneath some cushions. Deftly shuffling through the bag, 17 quickly dispatched what he needed and launched them into the crowds. He had but a few seconds._

_Quickly covering himself, 17 protected any exposed areas of himself as the building shook from the bombs. Screaming erupted, crashing occurred, fires started. 17 stood up when the shaking simmered down. He palmed the flash drive and began making his way to the door._

_Sobbing reached his ears and 17 allowed his green eyes to drift to the source. It was Josephine. She was being crushed beneath the weight of the rubble, blood running a crimson stream down her face._

_"Chris!" she screamed, "Chris, help me!"_

_He looked her dead in the eyes and walked away._

_17 never thought of her again._

* * *

Owen thought of her a lot.

He thought of all the women he charmed and massacred that night.

_"Still got the ladies swooning?"_

Grayson had known exactly what he was doing when he said those words and Owen hated him all the more for it.

He pushed down the memory, shoved it away, smothered it so as to not alert anyone of his woken state. Owen kept his eyes shut, his heart beat and breathing slow so no one would see his heaving chest, and body limp. 

By the way that he saw no impression of red through his eyelids, Owen knew he was in a dimly lit room. He was tied to a steel chair and with careful shifting he inferred that it was in fact bolted to the floor. Even worse, Owen's arms were tied to separate chair leg posts so he couldn't break out. His kidnapping assholes even went as far as bonding his upper arms and both of his legs. Shit.

Owen took note that he was alone in the room, but he knew better than to believe he wasn't being watched.

_Fucking hell this was bad._

A door must have been opened because a grating noise and a draft drifted through the room.

"Open those pretty eyes of yours, Grady. You're not fooling anybody with that act." 

Grayson.

Double shit.

Owen sighed, but opened his eyes nonetheless. He had to squint against the lights that had been switched on. How did his old admiral know he was awake? Apparently, his face betrayed some emotion because Grayson said, "You were heavily sedated, boy. Your heart beat increased drastically when you came out of such a state."

Oh.

Fuck.

If he was heavily sedated, than Grayson and his cronies would have had time to transport Owen to a secure location. It bothered him that he wasn't aware of how much time he missed, but Owen knew it was at least two hours. "So where am I? Somewhere tropical?"

Grayson chuckled. Owen didn't like the sound. "Certainly tropical, but not your precious Isla Nublar."

Owen stiffened. If they had time to move him to a completely different land...

'Where's Hoskins then?" he asked instead, not letting himself dwell on it too long. He needed answers and he needed them now.

The admiral's forehead wrinkled. "Hoskins? Do you mean that pigheaded fool working security? I suppose he's back on that dinosaur infested island eating a donut."

Was that a hint that it was morning or a jest that the man was overweight? More importantly, that meant that Owen was wrong. Damn it, he had been so sure that Hoskins had something to do with this suspicious situation. 

Owen quickly asked another question. "What am I doing here?"

He wasn't sure if he wanted the answer. Owen knew exactly what he was doing in Grayson's confinement and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. 

Grayson, the ass, chuckled again. "Well, my boy, I'm sure you know. We've missed you."

"Speak for yourself."

Grayson just kept on smiling with mirth dancing in his eyes like Owen was some puppy that had learned a knew trick. "Always did have a smart mouth."

The admiral made a gesture and the door opened again. This time, it was a wire of a man, young and bespeckled. He was rolling a small cart that held unknown items.

"Ah, Lawrence," Grayson clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Right on time. Why don't you prep the subject?" It wasn't a question. 

Lawrence nodded shakily.

Owen yanked at his hands forcefully, growling when they didn't move an inch. He kept at it, jumping in his seat, pulling his limbs harshly.

 _"Grayson,"_ he snarled, _"Don't you fucking dare._ Don't do it. I swear to god I will kill you."

Admiral Elijah Grayson chuckled once more because that man didn't laugh. "Its nice to know there's something that makes you squirm."

Lawrence neared him with a syringe full of a clear serum. Owen couldn't let that shit enter his body. If he did, it was game over.

" _Grayson!"_ Owen growled one last time, desperate.

The man in question looked on with a cruel smile.

Lawrence stuck the needle into his carotid artery and everything went blank.

"Welcome back, Number 17."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my beauties! I hope everyone is well and still sane. Please enjoy this chapter! :)

Number 17 slipped through the shadows, blending in and contorting them to his will as though he was their king. It was not hard to lose himself in their comforting darkness, in the whispers of their embrace. He welcomed the way they greeted him like an old friend. Number 17 felt as though he had been asleep for a long, long while. The last thing he remembered was a mission in Bangor, Maine.

Now, he thought he couldn't be farther away. He was in a forest of some sorts, decorated with the screeches of tropical sounding birds and eye drooping humidity. Number 17 wasn't aware of much, but he was tuned into his surroundings; his mission. He would not fail. With a lynx's grace, Number 17 climbed over a fence.

Two men down, unknown to go.

It was second nature for him to sneak through the uncomfortably bright halls. He felt exposed from the light however, and swiftly maneuvered himself into a vent. He didn't need to be caught. The ventilation system was surprisingly clean and cleared of any potential dust. It was unsettling. That meant people were regularly crawling through his hidden passage. It was likely just the cleaning crew, but Number 17 didn't like unknown variables. It left open too many risks.

He paused, listening. To the left, there were muffled noises. He headed in that direction. Number 17 stopped over another vent covering. Bingo.

"I'm aware of the possibilities, but I am a world renowned scientist. If I didn't have confidence in my abilities, I would surely have nothing."

"Pride is not confidence."

"I'm the brains of this operation."

"Sadly."

A sigh.

A new voice; feminine. 

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but when the both of you are done bickering, I would like to proceed."

Muffled talking. A door opened and shut. Only two people were in the room now, but they weren't speaking. Number 17 couldn't be sure if his target had been the one to leave. He had to act fast.

He dropped from the vent with a clatter from the covering. The man cursed and ran for the door. He was a smaller Chinese man wearing a white lab coat. Number 17 had to shake a strange feeling that he had seen this man before. It wasn't Number 17's target. Of course he had never seen him before. That was impossible. 

The woman: British, raven haired, and wearing a blue pant suit. That was his target. Dr. Mellie Lewis. 

They were in a medium sized room. A few tables littered the floor dusted with various objects, the lights were comfortably dim and a tank full of jellyfish rested center on the right wall. 

Number 17 fired without a second thought. The man was almost to the door when he let out a strangled cry and collapsed to one knee. He clawed at the door handle, attempting to pull himself along. 

The 'piff' of his silenced gun was like a familiar tune to Number 17's ears. With the witness out of the way, he focused on Doctor Lewis. She surprisingly whipped out a gun and fired at him. The assassin acted on instinct, dodging the bullet and flipping one of the metal tables to hide behind. He peered over it, but Lewis had seemingly experienced the same idea.

Number 17 fired at her, but his bullet was wasted. Lewis had nudged the table and instead on embedding itself into her shoulder, it ricocheted off the metal with a tanging noise. 

She let down her own hail of bullets causing Owen to retreat back to his foraged shelter. She wasn't supposed to be good at this type of stuff. The sneaky, little thing began pulling the table backwards towards the door. 

It sparked an idea in Number 17. If he edged his own table forwards, perhaps Lewis's own bullets would gather enough momentum to bounce off his table and back at hers (and more importantly Lewis herself) to actually damage her.

Long story short, it didn't work. Lewis got to the door and Number 17 was on the verge of chasing her down when hoards of unidentified men donning tactical gear and men and women wearing FBI vests stormed down the hall.

Looks like it was time for an escape.

* * *

"You incompetent boy!" shouted Grayson.

Number 17 did not expect the hit, but took it quietly when it came. He knew he messed up. He failed his mission.

"The only thing you did right was not get caught! How thick are you? You had one damn job and you screwed it up!"

Number 17 bowed his head to his commander. "I apologize, sir. I'll do better next time."

Grayson paused the pacing he had momentarily participated in and huffed, running a hand down his mouth. "Damn right you will."

Grayson walked to the steel, industrial door. He knocked twice and four men in masks appeared. "I've already debriefed him so just _clean_ him up."

Number 17 noticed that the word 'clean' seemed to possess a code, but didn't question it. It wasn't his job to ask questions unless it was for an interrogation. He didn't have to dwell on it much longer because the next thing he knew, everything was dark.

* * *

Owen groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He was back in his comfortable bungalow. Had that all been some twisted dream? He was dressed in his white shirt and usual pants, same as yesterday. Nothing hurt. Owen scrambled out of bed and to the mirror. 

There was a small prick on his neck. Shit. It was most certainly not a fucking dream.

The usual twitter of birds and whispers of wind seemed to contradict everything that had occurred. Wait, did it actually happen or was Owen hallucinating? He didn't even know anymore. Everything seemed normal. He felt normal. If it wasn’t dreamed and Number 17 made an appearance then why was he back home? Did Grayson not want Owen as an asset anymore? Was it because he failed?

What the hell was going on?

* * *

After a lovely shower, Owen hopped onto his motorcycle and booked it to the raptor enclosure. There was an unusual amount of flutter and commotion. The girls were snapping in their designated area, clearly unpleased. With furrowed eyebrows, Owen jumped into the mix. He located Barry pretty easily. The French African American was frantic. 

"Owen," he yelped, "Wu was attacked last night! The lab was destroyed and he was shot in the leg! The assailant escaped!"

Definitely not a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I don't use curse words as a part of Number 17's thoughts or speech. It conveys that he has a one track mid when in that state and can't concern himself with anything else. I really want to though like all the time lol. There also isn't any feelings or emotions on 17's part because that's not what he was "made to do". Also, I had said "a familiar tune to his ears" instead of "like music to his ears" for both of the previously stated reasons.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One would think that I would update more because of quarantine, huh?

Fuck.

The park was in quiet disarray. Well, the _staff_ was at least. In disarray, he meant. There was nothing quiet on their part. The tourists visiting the park were where the word "quiet" entered the picture. 

Quite honestly, Owen didn't care. The park had been briefly shut down in order to search for the mysterious criminal that had shot the head scientist. Claire fed the visitors some crack reason for the shutdown and Owen had to refrain from sighing every time someone cheerfully quipped, "We'll find him!"

That had been two days ago. Tourists were reimbursed, the "criminal" had yet to be found and Wu was not so subtly complaining in the mini but fantastic hospital Isla Nublar offered. Owen knew that he needed to figure out where Grayson was and how to get away from him again, but the man had yet to show his face.

FBI agents hung around for awhile. They interviewed all staff members, but they strangely never got around to questioning Owen on the verdict. He had quite the idea of who was behind that one...

What Owen especially found out-of-place weird was that Wu claimed he was _alone_ when Owen himself quite clearly remembered there being another person in that mediocre sized lab. He knew it was a woman and he knew it was his target, but her face was blurry. He just couldn't call her profile clearly to mind.

Claire, Lauren, Sydney, and Matt did not fail to question him on his whereabouts that night despite the recent uproar. Owen lied. Said Hoskins was being his usual intrusive self and kept him late. And when they asked why he didn't call? Owen produced an apologetic smile and soft eyes and the four didn't push. Thankfully. 

Currently, Owen was trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do. 

Turn himself in? That was out of the question. Owen had committed _dozens_ of murders in the 7 years he was under Grayson's brainwashing control. Fuck, the number was probably close to 200 people. He committed extreme cases of mass homicide on several accounts. Besides, what was Owen supposed to say? Yes, hi, officer. I'd just like to report myself for slaughtering hundreds on people. Wait, why are you pulling out your handcuffs? I was being brainwashed, pinky promise.

Fuck.

* * *

"Owen!" exclaimed Claire, pushing her way through the bustling crowd. It was obvious she was stressed by her unusually disheveled hair and clothing. A young woman was hurrying after her in a similar manner holding a cardboard coffee cup and a stack of papers tucked away into several manila folders. 

"Claire." Owen offered a small smile. "And who's your friend?"

Claire smiled back and straightened her blazer. "This is my PA Zara Young. She is an absolute wonder."

Zara grinned broadly and somehow managed to shift her possessions in order to shake Owen's hand. "It's lovely to meet you."

Owen shook her hand politely but paused at her face. Something was so familiar about it...

Obviously, the ex-navy soldier had been staring for too long because Claire cleared her throat and glanced between Zara and him.

Owen shook himself emphatically from his stupor and said, "Sorry, it's just," he sighed, "been a long ass week."

Zara snorted, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. "You can say that again."

"So," Claire started.

Owen noticed that she was shuffling a bit anxiously, a bit expectedly on her feet. His brain immediate went into it's hardwired mode. He accessed why she may be acting that way, noted Claire was a collected and confident person, scanned his surroundings, and... shut his thoughts off because everything was _fine._

The manager sighed before straightening herself out and staring straight into Owen's eyes.

"Look, I know that you and Mr. Grayson don't see eye to eye, but the two of you along with Hoskins are being paired together as extra security around the park's borders."

Owen was silent for a long, pregnant moment.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Owen-"

"Claire."

She looked at him in stark exasperation through her fiery bangs, placing a dramatic hand on her hip.

"No, Claire! I literally hate those two people more than anyone else on this God forsaken earth. I'm not doing some dumb ass patrol that's more useless than a gnat with them!"

"Well, that's too bad because it starts tonight."

"Claire."

"Owen," the woman said patiently, "I understand, but you can survive this. Besides, how would you know if it's useless. Got something to confess?"

"Claire," forced out a severely irritated Owen, looking up at the sky, "I swon to john." 

"Have fun!" the female manager called before disappearing into the crowd with her personal assistant before one could say abracadabra. 

* * *

Owen was positively fuming. 

Logically, he knew that it was Marsani and his higher up buddies that caused his torment in their vain attempt at handling the situation, but his anger was definitely directed at Claire herself. Couldn't she have pulled something and set him up with other people? Yes, he knew that he was only being involved in border patrol because of his background, but Grayson and Hoskins? Come on.

It didn't help that Owen knew it was entirely stupid because he was uselessly the perpetrator. 

Surely, Grayson was just as aggravated as him though knowing that bastard, he was probably getting some sick pleasure from knowing Owen was going to have to spend two hours with him. 

So, he promptly arrived five minutes late and discovered that both Grayson and Hoskins were silently waiting for his arrival.

"You're late." groaned Hoskins. 

"Yeah, sorry. I was trying to figure out how big of a body bag I'd need for your fat ass."

Hoskins rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the fence he was leaning heavily against with a huff.

***

About a blissfully silent 20 minutes into their walking, Grayson spoke.

"Haven't seen you around lately, my boy."

Owen snorted bitterly, hardly able to believe this prick. The admiral just had this way of burrowing under his skin like some pesky parasite and the dick knew it too.

"You're one to talk. Chaos erupts everywhere and a head of island security is no where to be found. Typical." He scoffed the last word, easily let pent up aggression sidle into his sentences.

"If you needed me, all you had to do was call." Grayson quipped because he was an asshole and knew it would bother Owen. Owen in turn grit his teeth with dangerous force and spun his head away. 

"So do you two like..."

"I will fucking shoot you, Hoskins."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up, babes?

Owen was abruptly awoken by the harsh beeping of his alarm clock. He groaned groggily, digging his palm into his eye and turning toward the window where the blazing sun was sending an early morning greeting. Squinting at the brightness of it, Owen flopped back around. A second later, he froze.

There was a note on his pillow.

It wasn't signed, but he had quite the idea of who would be leaving messages on his pillow. The paper itself was firm, cardstock likely, the size congruently 4" by 4". In perfectly crafted cursive, the words _I look forward to working with you again soon_ were sprawled out. 

Owen paused to release a sigh that had been bubbling in his chest for quite some time. He growled at the prospect. Grayson knew what he was doing. He was suggesting that Number 17 would be making an appearance again soon and leaving the note on Owen's pillow was a power play. The admiral knew that he could always get to Owen no matter where he was and wanted Owen to know that too. 

Message received loud and clear.

He tried to ignore the dirty feeling that washed over him with the thought that Grayson had been in his bungalow while he was asleep. If he was sleeping then he wasn't alert and if he wasn't alert then he was vulnerable. Owen didn't like being vulnerable.

His body had absolutely no problem with it when Owen plopped backwards heavily with a strangled groan. He wished he could lie on his just soft enough bed and bask in the ever rising sun while he listened to the cacophony of awakening birds. He _wished_ he could disappear from the face of the Earth. Alas, Owen had to meet with one Claire Dearing.

He burned the note.

* * *

"Owen!" Lauren jovially hummed. 

Well, Owen wished she had hummed. She shouted. He was working on quite the riveting theory that Lauren did not sleep and was immune to tiredness. 

"Laur," Owen grumped back at her. He accepted his coffee from the barista with a soft smile, handing over a few bills. His order was simple; black, two teaspoons of sugar. 

Lauren was already grasping a café issued coffee cup in her nimble fingers. It was no secret that she was a coffee addict. 

Owen gladly walked over to the shiny, circular tables placed outside strategically. They both collapsed into the chairs. Almost immediately, Owen began to flick the morning precipitation collecting on the table's surface. It would be gone in about two hours when the sun finally arched over the horizon fully. 

"You look tired." Lauren started as an opener, taking a sip from her cup.

"You don't." Owen replied back, glancing up to meet her soft eyes.

Lauren barked out a laugh, her gaze training itself off in the distance. "You'd be surprised. I'm just glad those FBI dudes are gone. They interrogate you?"

Owen carved his face into one of flawless annoyance. "Yep."

Lauren threw her head back and groaned theatrically. "Like I understand they're just trying to help, but seriously? Yes, I wasted my free night to go kill some jackass in a lab. What'd they ask you?"

Owen, having a military background, easily had the standardized interrogation questions memorized. "Where were you, what were you doing... All that shit."

The brunette folded her hands on the metal table, peering at him playfully. Owen stared back with an almost bored expression. She was about to ask more questions. 

"And where did you tell them you were? Because you certainly weren't with us for an alibi. Hoskins doesn't count."

Owen glared her down with a completely serious look, took a preparing sip of coffee and answered, "I said I was having cuddly nap time with my man slaughtering raptors."

Lauren laughed fully, eyes crinkling around the edges. "Did they believe you?"

He shook his head in mock sadness. Fake it till you make it, right?

"Not at all."

Owen glanced down at his leather bound watch and jumped from his chair. "I have to go meet with Claire. See you later?"

"Yeah," Lauren promised. 

Owen was already 10 feet away from the table they at been occupying when Lauren called out to him.

"And, hey! Don't be too hard on Claire, yeah? She feels really guilty about sticking you with those two assholes for border patrol."

Owen wasn't angry with the manager anymore. It had dissipated by the end of yesterday's night. He understood and knew that people didn't always get what they wanted.

"Don't worry," he just said in reply, "I'm not upset with our girl anymore."

* * *

Claire smiled apologetically at Owen when he pushed passed her doors to enter her office. Her popping red lipstick was in perfect place, her hair neatly combed, and her outfit in exact settlement. Claire appeared far less frazzled than before which made Owen unexplainedly joyful.

He passed her the vanilla latte he had taken a detour to fetch. The park had several cafés after all since it was so overwhelmingly humongous. 

Claire accepted it gratefully and gulped a heaving sip. That hinted to her still being stessed, Owen noted. Claire probably always existed in some state of internal panic, but she usually nursed drinks. Interesting.

"Owen, look-"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't apologize, okay? It's fine. I promise."

"Are you sure?" Claire questioned, looking doubtful. "Because I really am sorry. I know how much you dislike Mr. Grayson and Hoskins."

"Claire, I swear to you that it is absolutely fine."

Thankfully, she smiled and accepted Owen's own acceptance. He was glad. Owen didn't like there to be tension between his friends and him.

They were able to mindlessly chat for about five minutes before Sydney burst through the door looking unsure and confused. Owen didn't like that either. Sydney always knew what was happening and even if she had no clue what the situation entailed, she would damn sure slide right into the conversation until the persons included thought she had been seated first row at the actual event. 

"Claire," Sydney gasped breathlessly, "you need to see this."

Claire sat her flavored latte down on her desk and scrambled after the taller woman. Despite not being addressed nor invited, Owen hurried along too. 

He had a bad feeling about this.

***

The first thing Owen noticed when they arrived at the Mosasaur aquarium was that an ambulance was parked conspicuously there. A group of EMTs and paramedics were clustered around what he assumed was a body.

"What happened?" Claire panicked.

Okay, that wasn't like her at all.

Sydney swallowed. "I got here at my usual time, you know? The security guard- Darrel, he always does the night shift to keep guests out- was just lying there. I, of course, checked his pulse and made sure his breathing was regulated."

"So he's not dead?" Claire interrupted in need of confirmation.

Sydney's grimace was grim. "Not yet. He appeared to just be unconscious, but it could be a slow acting poison. We don't know how long he was just laid out like that. But that's not all."

Owen surveyed the surrounding premises and couldn't help but wonder what else could have possibly occurred. Looks like his bad feeling was right.

Sydney began striding forward quickly, bringing them to the below deck area. Owen let his eyes search the water for M in a moment of distraction. He glued his gaze to her aquatic frame. 

"Someone stole our records on the big girl." Sydney explained to the pair of them, gesturing to an empty folder holder on the wall and then to M.

"You-you keep them _here?_ " Claire sputtered incredulously. 

Sydney sighed deep enough to rival the tank they were adjacent to and rubbed her forehead. "We record M everyday and then keep all our gathered information in a folder. At the end of the week, we turn it in and start anew. Why would a civy want some stupid records of a dinosuar? And besides, we have Darrel for a damn reason."

Owen frowned. He had a suspicion...

It wasn't hard to slip past Claire, Sydney, and all of the crowd gathered above ground. Seeing as the raptor enclosure was closer than the control room (and he had a feeling a certain someone was there), Owen hopped onto his motorcycle and raced off to one of his absolute favorite places in the world.

* * *

The moment Owen spotted Grayson, he was dead. 

His records on the raptors were missing too. (Though Owen admittedly, thankfully, didn't have much written down.) The action however only confirmed his suspicion that the older admiral was behind this whole ordeal. Owen was a bit relieved that Barry wasn't at the paddock. The girls, however, were snapping unhappily in their cages. 

"Hey, Blue." Owen whispered, tracing a calloused hand along her snout. "How you doing?"

The raptor snuffled and dug into his hand before growling. With a spur of milliseconds later, Owen understood why.

"Quite the beast tamer, aren't you, boy?"

Owen spun around and had Grayson thrown up against the wall fast enough to rival a god.

"What the hell did you do?" he growled, fisting his hands tighter in his old admiral's shirt.

"Put me down and I'll tell you," Grayson warily negotiated. 

Owen slowly slid the man back to the floor and placed him upright on his feet. The raptor pack was squalling and ramming into the bars. They didn't like Grayson either.

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private," Grayson suggested which was not at all an actual suggestion. 

He eyed the other man tentatively, but agreed nonetheless. Silently, Owen led the other into his own office.

"Why'd you steal the records?" he quizzed immediately, leaning back on his wooden desk while crossing his arms.

Grayson sighed, "That's the thing. I didn't."

Owen stared at him in silence, a clear notion to continue.

"Look, the target I sent you after; she stole them. We need you to recover them. And kill her more importantly."

"Get another puppet," Owen spat selfishly, "because I am so fucking done." 

Grayson just sighed again, this time much more exasperated. "I already told you. You're the only one compatible with the serum-"

Owen barked out a scoffing laugh. He didn't want to have this conversation. He did want to have this conversation. Fuck. He wanted to _scream_ at Grayson if it would make him feel even a smidge better.

"The serum that killed my team? Yeah, I remember."

And Owen did. The day he returned from a solo mission and was carted off to the facility lab was all too fresh in his mind. It wasn't until after he was strapped to a chair of course that he was told the valuable fact that all of his teammates had been murdered because their bodies had rejected some mystery serum. At the end of the day, he was the only one left.

"Listen to me for a damn minute, boy. I discovered excruciatingly important information only a couple of hours ago and I am willing to tell you the full story if you help."

Owen paused for a minute and evaluated everything. He had wanted answers for seven long goddamn years.

He nodded. "Okay."

Grayson took a breath and licked his dry lips. "Okay, good. I'm going to start explaining things. It'll be confusing, but save your questions until the end, alright? Alright. When the serum was still in the process of being created, something happened. An incident with a new intern occurred. We all thought she was going to die of course. The serum was made for a man, it wasn't complete, and the dosage was far too high for her stature. However, she survived. The serum worked perfectly. We were all overjoyed. After all, who would make a better assassin than a pretty, young woman with an accent?

"So, we did our research. I had someone find her interviewer and it was revealed that the girl was a nobody from a nobody family in a nobody town. She left home because of a fight with her folks. It was so _perfect!_ And it worked. The girl performed flawlessly. But then she broke free. Like I said, the serum was created for the mind of a man. It was made to hug every nook and cranny of the brain. However, a woman's brain is different." 

"If she broke free," Owen interrupted, trying to process the flood of information, "Then why is she a problem? Shouldn't she be back to herself?"

"That's the thing," Grayson replied, "she is a _woman._ It's not the same. Yes, she broke free from _us,_ but not Number 0's control."

"So what the hell does _Number 0_ need with dinosaur records?"

"We don't know. After a lot of investigating, I figured out that the argument she had with her parents was about her brother who had recently died. Those strong tethers of emotion surfaced to Number 0. That's all we have concluded about her."

"Wait, you said you just discovered some info."

"Yes. It turns out 'Dr. Mellie Lewis' is actually undercover as Zara Young."

"What?" Owen exclaimed. He knew she looked familiar! "Is Claire in danger?"

"Claire is _fine."_ Grayson answered irritably. "Zara Young isn't even her real name. It's actually Katie McGrath."

"Hold on," Owen said, displaying the words before him mentally, trying to work through something prodding at his brain.

"Oh my god."

"What?" asked Grayson.

"She's trying to bring her brother back to life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Civy is what Sydney calls civilians in case y'all didn't get that,


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, fish and squids! That was a weird term of affection. Anywho, its been a hot minute, huh? I'll admit, I didn't even realize I hadnt updated about 11 days in. Then I was made aware of this fact, but I decided to finish online school because I only had like a week left. Still didn't update right after either, but now I'm here. I tried updating earlier, but my computer wouldn't turn on so *shrugs*

Owen wasn't sure what to think, but dreaded panic definitely seemed good to feel. 

He didn't know what to do now that he had discovered the big bad's plan. Grayson had froze bone deep when Owen proposed his idea and then grumbled unintelligibly under his breath before stalking out of the room with the promise to stay in touch. Eh, promise seemed too dainty for this situation. He more of stated it was going to happen, so hey, guess that was a thing now. 

After such a jarring conversation, Owen honestly wasn't in the mood for any human interaction. Luck it seemed was not on his side. At least it was just Barry.

"Brother, where have you been?"

Owen used an intense amount of practiced self control in order not to audibly sigh. He turned around with a tired grin plastered across his stubbly face.

"Around. You?"

Barry studied him with those dark eyes in that way that only he could. Owen felt like three years of secrets had been stripped from him and searched through methodically in seconds. The dark skinned man settled eventually with a small smile that didn't display all his pearly whites as per usual. 

"Around."

Owen huffed a laugh, wagging a lazy finger. "That's a good one."

"Yes, I did find it quite humorous." 

Owen relaxed his face after a moment. Hiding his baggage and all the shit that it entailed from Barry never worked. Unfortunately. If it wasn't already obvious, Owen wasn't exactly comfortable splaying out his past like a five course meal.

"Rough week, huh?" he implied instead, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops and kicking at the dusty ground a tad. 

"Yeah, man, rough week." Barry inclined his head, wrinkles of concern appearing. "Are you alright? Do you need something?"

"Nah, dude." Owen immediately waved off. "I think I'm just gonna head back to my bungalow or maybe get some supper from the park. Thanks though."

Barry gave Owen a tight smile before strutting up to him, clapping his shoulder and heading off in the direction of the raptor paddock's research room. 

Owen didn't hold in his sigh this time, letting it slip from his lips like a cool wave. He wasn't ready to face the crowds of the park who had undoubtedly been released from their rooms. Owen also detested the idea of running into one of the girls. Or he just didn't want to run into Claire or Sydney at least. They would question him and Owen didn't like questions nor did he have any particularly good answers. 

On the other hand however, the pure thought of going back home where Grayson, the vile monster, had easy access to him sounded perilous. Owen decided to ride over to the park and just take his chances.

It wasn't like it was the worst decision he'd ever made.

* * *

Owen was sat slumped over in his outdoor seat at a table akin to the one at the cafe this morning. His sprawled out legs worked efficiently to soak up the last rays of true heat before the day would settle into a humid night.

Owen had ordered a hamburger and fries and though he knew from experience that this particular restaurant served utterly, disgustingly amazing food, he found himself unable to eat. All Owen could do was rub his finger soothingly in a transe-like state over the orange and red hues cast by the sunset in the reflective table. He lazily surveyed the area, watching as families finished up their events and headed out to either eat or sleep. To his annoyance, tonight just so happened to be a firework show. God, he wished those could get banned for spooking the dinosaurs or something. Owen hated them with a deadly passion. 

A body flopped into the chair across from him and immediately snatched up a fry without asking. Owen glared at Matt half-heartedly. It wasn't like he was going to eat it.

"What?" Matt defended, sliding the red basket of food across the table to him. "Not like you were gonna eat it."

Well.

"How are you, Matt? Last time I saw you, you were still recovering from unhealthy habits." 

"Huh," Matt laughed breathily, crinkling a napkin between his tanned hands. "Not as unhealthy as your habits. I happen to take care of my human needs."

Owen sent him a more heated glare and grabbed a fry before taking a very vicious and pointed bite as though to prove his point. 

"Alright, alright. I got it." Matt held up his hands in mock surrender.

"It's just been a crazy ass week, huh?" Owen inquired a bit rhetorically, training his green-eyed gaze on the mosasaur attraction. The last tourists were filtering out onto the main street and Owen could spot Sydney leaning over the railings like she was talking to M.

"Yeah, but I mean, you're kinda used to this stuff, right? Killers, guns, stolen shit?"

Owen froze for a fraction of a second, trying to get his brain to recognize that it was an innocent question. Matt wasn't a threat. 

"I was in the navy, dude. Not the mafia."

Matt's laughter rose through the thick air.

* * *

Owen was just finishing up his nightly procedures at the paddock when a large hand clapped over his muscled bicep. He tensed indefinitely and was two seconds away from judo flipping the attacker before they spoke. 

"Owen, I think we should talk."

Barry.

Owen let out a loose breath of relief and attempted a flippant attitude. "What's up?"

"What's been wrong with you lately? You are barely at the paddock, you said you skipped our meet up the other night because Hoskins kept you, but I know for a fact that neither of you were here, you look more tired than usual, you've been jumpy, and the other day you smelled _sterile._ Almost as though you had a hospital cleansing. So, my friend, what have you really been doing?"

And that's the story of how Owen came to tell Barry who Number 17 was.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. Bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy.

For a long, _long_ while, Barry didn't say anything. He just stared, gaping at Owen as the latter sheepishly rubbed his neck and began questioning his decision to confess his deepest, darkest secret. After what must have been ten minutes, Barry interrupted the anxious silence.

"If you're a murderer, I don't feel like you should be telling me that."

Owen couldn't help it. He started laughing which really probably wasn't aiding his case of proving he was sane. With a last few breathless huffs, Owen wiped at his eyes and sobered up.

"Sorry." He squeezed out, straightening his back.

It was just that it was such a _Barry_ thing to say. There was not a dip dang drop of fear or resentment. Not a single hint of disgust. Just honest to God advice on how to get away with murder. 

"Owen," Barry stressed, capturing the young man's scattered attention. "This seriously isn't good. How am I supposed to respond to this?"

"By hopefully not screaming," answered Owen, "or calling the cops."

Barry rubbed his forehead furiously as he began pacing back and forth. Owen tapped his foot nervously. He couldn't tell if he made the wrong choice yet. So far, Barry seemed to be reacting appropriately for someone who was just told their best friend was a mind controlled killer. Or as appropriately as one could behave. 

"Let me get this straight. The new security guy Grayson who was your old Navy admiral _brainwashed_ you into becoming a serial killer where you then had no ability to stop yourself because your brain was being mass operated by your alter ego dubbed Number 17?"

"Yes."

Barry sighed, ceased his pacing, and gave a Owen a tilted grin as he shook his head.

"Son of a bitch."

* * *

All in all, Owen would say that Barry was miraculously okay with the fact that he had committed mass homicide. Sure, he bombarded the younger man with questions and was cursing Grayson by the end, but hey, Owen was fine with that.

Quite honestly, he was still anticipating Grayson's arrival with a festering anxiety. The man had said he was concocting up some ridiculous plan to take care of Mellie Lewis or whatever the hell her name was and said that Owen was a key part of it.

The intense survival instincts that had sprouted during his time in the Navy and especially while he was on the run had welled up and were not so discreetly trying to inform him to just get the hell out of South America. Did Owen really care if some psychotic chick was attempting quite emphatically to resurrect her late brother? Did Owen really have any reason to stay where he was?

The other part of Owen that was rational and compassionate was completely against his survival instincts. _Yes,_ he cared. _Yes,_ he had a reason to stay. Several actually.

He had all his amazing friends. Claire, Barry, Matt, Lauren, and Sydney. He _loved_ his job with a crazy, uncontrolled passion. Most importantly, Owen had his girls.

Who he was currently surrounded by.

Owen swooped swiftly to snatch a large femur stripped of all tissue from the ground and hurled it across the clearing. He watched steadily as Delta, Echo, and Charlie galloped away to get to it first. Meanwhile, Blue stayed cozily next to Owen and popped her head underneath his lazy hand. She clearly had some indication that Owen was suffering from some inner turmoil and wanted to comfort him.

Owen released a sigh and stroked his beta's scaly head. "I have a feeling things are about to get a lot harder, Pretty Girl."

Blue made a snuffling noise and pushed her large, reptilic body further into the man who laughed, struggling to remain on his feet. "But of course, you'll be there for me. I know."

Owen tutted warningly at Echo who had returned with the bone as she snapped at her sisters who were attempting to steal it from her. He grabbed the old calcium formation and threw it again. Owen had never let himself really be happy or content because he knew that something would happen to ruin it or that feeling so would cause him to be caught off guard, but in that moment the trainer was truly _fine._ Well, that was until a voice interrupted his blissful silence.

"Get your ass out of that lizard cage. We have work to do."


	11. Chapter 11

Owen didn't like the plan but there wasn't much he could do. At least he had managed to derive one thing from Grayson that was actually good.

So Owen remembered having a knife at the security guard's throat before he himself could even think. He remembered when he bribed the information from the man with pure fear and he remembered knocking the guy out. 

If Owen contemplated hard enough, he could quite vividly recall snatching the files from the light gray yet unattractive looking cabinet despite how blurry the memory was because of how quickly it had passed. 

Owen especially remembered the sigh of relief he had shared with the universe upon successfully completing his mission. After that, Owen could even recall handing the papers to a carefully satisfied Grayson.

He remembered a lot from that night and none of it was bad thankfully.

* * *

"Owen, call me." Claire stressed over the phone as she paced her office. 

She inhaled a deep breath and rubbed her forehead in any attempt at all to relieve her frustration (and the oncoming headache). The park was on high alert due to the recent attacks, her office phone kept getting complaints about the irregular but now common shutdowns and delays, and Marsani was blowing up her personal phone and _she needed a minute to breathe god damnit._

Oh, not to mention the fact that Owen was A.W.O.L. None of their mutual friends had heard from him nor seen him, he wasn't at his bungalow, he wasn't at the paddock, he wasn't at his favorite coffee place and even fucking Barry didn't know where he was. Barry always knew the whereabouts of that elusive man. 

So Claire was panicking. She didn't know what exactly to do because she hadn't been prepared for some strange man dressed in black to dangle around and kill people. That wasn't in a single class she had taken and half of her wanted to call her old professors just to yell at them.

"Miss Dearing!" shouted a worried looking woman named Melony as she burst through the door. "Files were stolen from your PA's office last night!"

When did it end?

* * *

Owen was wiping the blood of his raptors' lunch off his hands when he caught Barry staring imploringly at him. 

"If you take a picture it might last longer."

"Its fine. You aren't my type."

Owen laughed at the comment, peering over the catwalk balcony to watch his girls rip a chunk of meat apart. He felt good and he was honest to God happy about it.

"Seriously. What's wrong?" he asked more directly this time, eyebrows furrowed and arched simultaneously.

"What's wrong?" Barry repeated incredulously. "Have you checked your phone recently? Everyone on the damn earth has been trying to find you and they're not very subtle about it. Do you know how many people have asked for you today?"

"Sorry, man. Guess I haven't really had the time."

Owen supposed it was nice to be needed or at least thought about. He wasn't particularly sure he wanted to answer any of the calls or messages, but he would probably have to get around to it eventually. 

Barry shook his head. "Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna go ahead and start cleaning up. Why don't you answer a few of those love letters, hmm?"

Just then, Owen's phone rang, so he retrieved it from his pocket and shook it will a grin for emphasis. Barry laughed and then he was gone.

The phone displayed a simple No Caller ID which easily led Owen to assumed that Grayson was calling him. 

The admiral sounded absolutely, horrendously enraged when he answered.

"Grady, I don't care what the fuck you're doing or where the hell you are. Get your damn ass to headquarters _now!"_

And then he hung up.

* * *

Claire rushed to the control room where she was met with only three people. Lowry, Vivian and Zara.

Of course, she added four, but Zara rather swiftly excused herself to the restroom. The young woman had looked quite distraught though Claire wasn't sure if she would call the emotion anger or sadness. 

"What did you need me for?" Claire asked the two remaining people as she adjusted her blazer. 

"We were just about to look through the security footage." Lowry replied, sipping from a park themed cup

"We thought you'd want to be here if we found anything." Vivian continued.

Lowry switched around in his chair and skirted up to his keyboard and began typing. "Mmm, that's the weird part. All the other cameras had been cut and assumedly put on a loop, but one particular camera right outside of the lovely Miss Young's office was left on. Strange, isn't it?"

Claire definitely thought that was strange. If anything, the security camera directly across from Zara's office should have been disabled if that was the subjected room of theft.

What she saw, however, would change her life forever.

"Owen?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see...? Hehe...

Owen didn't burn his bridges. He covered them with salt to keep his demons from crossing over. Owen didn't forget. Never, not for a single second, did he forget the ghosts in his lungs or the skeletons in his closet. He would never stop waking with screams on his tongue. Never stop collapsing to his bloody knees with raw terror. 

So when Owen found himself willingly hopping onto a small dinghy and speeding his way across the ocean, skipping over blue waves, he hated himself a little more. He had sworn with his last dying breath that he would never return to Grayson and there he was riding up to the man's front door.

What the hell?

He had been a mere 18 years old, fresh out of high school, when he had joined the Navy. Two years later, he was turned into a mindless assassin. For the next seven years, Owen continued to transform tirelessly between mind frames. His mother thought he was dead long before Grayson sent two privates to the Grady residence.

Owen had then spent another three years on the run from the sick bastard and finally at the ripe age of thirty, he had secured a remote job position and thought he was free.

Screw that hope.

The facility was stereotypical. Gray walls, dim lighting, off to the side rooms and the occasional person rushing by with futile glances sent his way. Owen entered one of the previously mentioned rooms when directed and was met with a positively fuming Grayson.

"You blew the damn mission, boy!"

"What?" Owen rebuked incredulously, doing a double take. "I got the files, didn't I?"

"Stupid boy," Grayson muttered angrily, face pale and eyes livid. "I should've never trusted you with such a thing!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The camera saw your damn face!"

Now Owen really had to pause. Didn't Grayson's team take care of those? Shit. He was actually going to have to drop off the face of the earth. Owen couldn't work at Jurassic World if they knew what he had done. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The one good thing that had ever happened to him, and it was all thrown away now. 

"Isn't that your tech crew's problem?" He asked instead in deflection. 

The admiral's jaw and fists clenched, lips pulling into a taut line. He swiveled his neck momentarily in angered aggravation. Owen had to actively keep himself from flinching back, had to remind himself he was an independent man that could hold his own. 

"It's someone in that field's fault, but I don't give a damn about that right now. Why the bloody hell did you not have your mask on?"

"You literally had the lock pick installed into the mask. That's not my fault. That's crappy manufacturing."

Owen sighed and began pacing, his right hand brushing nervously through his hair in a continuous stream.

"Shit. What am I supposed to do?...Do you know if anyone has seen it?"

"I have someone working on it. You better hope that little she-devil hasn't gotten her claws on it yet."

Owen, knowing Grayson was speaking about Claire, opened his mouth to defend the poor woman, but something struck him suddenly.

"Say that again!"

"Say what again?" Grayson gruffed, eyebrows furrowed.

"Nevermind. We don't have time for that. There was a mission... fuck I don't even remember what year it was...but it was an all-women's gala and there was some lady called the Devil's temptress."

"Yeah. 2010. That was one of your last missions with us."

"I think that woman was this Katie McGrath."

"Son of a bitch."

"I-I got something off of her. A flash drive or something. Do you still have it?"

"Damn it, son. I don't know. We'll have to search through evidence. Are you certain they are the same person?"

"I think so...but," Owen paused for a minute, passing his hand regretfully over the back of his neck. "I blew that building up. How did she survive?"

"She is a trained assassin too, pretty boy. If Number 17 wanted to get out of that building, could he have?"

A pause.

"Yes."

* * *

Claire wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but she was certain it was a mistake. A misunderstanding. Something. She was extraordinarily thankful that there were only two other people in the room and that she trusted the both of them.

Even so, Claire threatened Vivian and Lowry to ensure that what they saw didn't go past their eyes or lips. They were both understandably frantic, but Owen was the duo's friend too. She even heard Lowry creating stretched and delusional theories as she left, but at least it made Vivian laugh and relax.

Now, Claire just had to find Owen. 

Like that wasn't already hard enough, he wasn't picking up when she called and she had already searched everywhere she knew of. Claire hadn't wanted to ask for help or grapple anyone into the situation, but she was getting desperate.

Resignedly, Claire cursed when Lauren didn't answer. Checking anxiously at her watch, Claire cursed herself again when she realized the T-Rex had a show. Just as Claire had been about to press Sydney's contact, she was struck with her own stupidity as the fact that the mosasaur and the T-Rex had dual showings dawned on her. 

Instead Claire called Matt and was incredibly pleased when he answered with a, _"What's up,_ _red bird?"_

"Do you know where Owen is?"

 _"Jeez. That was awfully direct. No_. _Why? Is something wrong?"_

"No, no. Nothing's wrong. Sorry. I just wanted to talk to him."

Matt's resounding laughter echoed through the phone. Claire couldn't help but direly notice how inappropriate that was for the situation.

_"It's fine. And hey? This is Owen we're talking about. He'll show up sometime."_

Claire bid her goodbyes and thanked him all the while trying to calm her nerves.

* * *

After intense digging, the old flash drive had been retrieved and Grayson and Owen formed a plan.

"I want a favor."

Grayson huffed a loud, disbelieving laugh. "I think you've just about exuded your favors, boy."

"I want to be me for this mission, not Number 17." Owen carried on with determination.

"You were yourself on your last mission and look where that got us." 

"I already told you that wasn't my fault."

"You do the mission as Number 17 or you don't do it all."

"What if I made you a deal?" Owen offered, taking a deep breath as nerves wracked him and his heart pounded insistently against his ribcage. "If I do this mission as myself and I fail, I'll come back to you. No more running. No more hiding. If I succeed, you leave me alone. Win-win for you either way."

Grayson was quiet for a long moment while he mulled it over and Owen felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Deal."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, babes! I've been a bit busy lately so it took my awhile to update, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Owen didn't want to return to the park. Some part of him screamed of how wrong it was, how weird. Shouted with burning lungs that he didn't belong in that make believe world full of dinosaurs. Maybe he just didn't belong at all. Owen was a misfit. He was forced into things he didn't understand after he barely grew older than a minor. He could wallow all he wanted with his head clutched in his blood-stained hands, but there was still a missing gap that consumed him originating from his chest.

Jurassic World seemed wrong. It was a place of joy and happiness. Of scientific breakthroughs and dreams come true. Stepping past it's walls was tainting. Owen didn't want to spoil the magic with his rotten footsteps. 

Admittedly, he was afraid. He was afraid that someone had seen that tape. Owen couldn't just kill his problems in the real world. He had to deal with them. He knew that. However, there was one thought, dark and twisting, striking bitter coldness through him. What if Claire saw the footage? Owen couldn't hurt her, couldn't murder her. Claire was innocent. She was his friend.

But what if she saw?

Owen wasn't going to jail, couldn't. There was an entire being that resided within himself deeming punishment. It cat-called to the Fates. Announced his sins for all to hear. There was another piece of him, fractured, frozen, but not forgotten, whispering his survival. Telling him selfishly in gentle caresses that Owen would always be a prisoner, would always do anything he had to do to live longer. To outlive his enemies.

Owen hated that part of himself. Despised it more than he despised the government. More than he despised Grayson.

So what was he to do if Claire had seen it? Would she be able to see reason and join his side of the argument? How did Owen get himself into this fucked up mess again? Oh, that's right. Don't join the military, kids.

He stepped off the dighny, dawdling longer than he should have. Owen continuously redid his figure eight sailor's knot with the conviction that it wasn't tight enough, wasn't good enough. Releasing a sigh, he recognized that it was time to face the music. Besides, maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe no one even saw it. Everything could be fine. 

Owen had never been an optimistic person.

Hopefully, Owen could slip through the midday chaos and go to the raptor paddock. He felt like he hardly had any time for his girls anymore. With that resolute decision in mind, Owen began the trek to where he had last left his motorcycle. Sneaking through the crowds with his head down, Owen listened to the pounding of his feet against the pavement in an attempt to focus on something other than the fact that he was hiding.

Easily and soon enough, Owen arrived to his trusty vehicle and patted the sun-warmed side. Gripping the handles and mounting the bike by swinging his leg over the side, he allowed his muscles to drop from their pretense as he took a breath.

It would be okay.

* * *

It would not be okay. Of that, Owen was certain. However, he allowed the dreaded thoughts to drift from his mind in favor of spending some blessed and well needed time with his raptor pack.

Slamming his large, muscled hand onto the open button, Owen watched as the gate to the paddock slowly drifted open and revealed his curious girls. 

"Hi," he offered lamely. 

Like a trance had been lifted, all four of them rushed him. Owen laughed at their snuffling snouts and snooping muzzles. Blue cawed something furious and he patted her affectionately.

"I know," Owen whispered gently. "I'm sorry. As soon, as I get rid of Grayson, we'll go out to the restricted section, huh? That sound like fun?"

Charlie, Delta, and Echo voluminously agreed as they pranced around to express their glee in an obvious attempt to garner some happiness from their alpha.

Blue didn't move. She stared at him analytically with those piercing, yellow eyes all the while cocking her head. It was disturbing. Almost like she was reading his thoughts. Owen _really_ didn't want Blue to know what he was thinking. 

The weight had settled on his chest as soon as he promised his girls. Owen knew there was no way he could 100% say he was coming back, was going to return to them. At the end of the day, and in it's fallout, his fate would be decided. 

Owen so vehemently wanted to be himself for the damned mission because he didn't trust Number 17 to not kill everyone on sight. With himself in control, there would be no need for the murder of innocent guards and bystanders.

Owen felt himself begin to relax and release all his tension when he heard a thick voice call out, "Owen!"

Snapping his head to the side, Owen felt his heart drop to his feet.

Claire Dearing was staring at him with unshed tears in her crystal eyes.

She knew.

* * *

Owen had exited the raptor pen and approached Claire with heavy feet and leaden legs. The loudness of the crunching gravel had seemed horribly inappropriate. When the redhead threw her accusations at him, Owen took it, wincing every time her voice cracked. 

Eventually, he managed to viably collect the attention and speaking rights passing between the two of them long enough to explain himself. Claire flitted through so many emotions during the telling it was like she was trying on different outfits. After all of his words and voice seemed to drain, they stood in strained silence. 

A moment later Barry rounded the corner and stopped almost comically. He took one look at Owen's distraught expression and Claire's tearstained cheeks accompanying her widely agape mouth and seemed to understand the situation.

The three of them stood in that unbearable silence until Owen's phone rang. His face hardened when it was revealed to be Grayson and he started towards his motorcycle.

"What?" Claire gasped faintly. 

"Ask Barry," was the only thing Owen could say.

It was time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. Yoooooo... so it's been like nearly a month, but y'all are chill...right?

For a split, never-to-be-spoken-of-again-second, Owen wished he was in Number 17's mindscape. His alternative self had no room for hesitation or fear, no self-preservation or weaknesses to be exploited. He was as he was supposed to be. Focused, honed, unbeatable. To be completely honest with himself, Owen could definitely use an advantage such as that.

He really was not completely sure of what the plan was. Owen just knew that he needed to get in, stop Katie McGrath, and get the hell out. The uncertainty of everything settled like a solid pit in his gut; cold, heavy and unmoving. 

His mind felt hazy as Owen suited up. The rhythmic pulling of armor, tugging of weapons, sliding of hidden devices and contrabands. He had not experienced such things with a present, clear head in years and the twisting in Owen's gut was beginning to slowly but steadily crawl into his chest. Owen was secretly afraid that if he did not end things soon, the _thing_ would somehow find its way out of his throat and burst passed his chapped lips. 

So perhaps when he set his last piece of gear into place and rounded on the foreboding door symbolizing how agonizingly _real_ it all was, Owen's mind was far away and drifting. It was not practical and could likely get him killed, but _who fucking cared?_ It was all just a means to an end anyway.

With a heavy swallow, Owen resigned himself to the fact that failure meant he'd be trapped, enslaved, used all over again. Freedom was too good to be true. He should have known that, _remembered_ that long before he allowed himself to relax and believe things to be better.

By the time Owen had settled himself onto the dull, gray dinghy, the sun had long ago set, but the typical coastal weather permitted the burning star to cast shades of deep yellow, orange and pink across the inappropriately calm water. He could only hope that it was a sign from Poseidon that things would be okay.

After all, the old gods were not dead.

Owen's tie up to the dock was muscle memory exclusively. There was not thought behind his actions, no deliberate attempt. If the doable boat floated away then so be it. Using the darkness as a shield, Owen sifted his way through the abandoned park in order to borrow an ATV. His motorcycle was likely too loud and unpractical when it came to stealthily sneaking up to the lab. 

The birds were unsettlingly quiet as Owen raced through the dense foliage. Whispers of wind pecked at his ears and drifted through the leaves with only a bristling trace. Owen attempted to allow the swift shock of cold emitting from the gust to knock him straight out of his haze, but his mind stubbornly remained. He tried desperately to shake himself loose, knowing it could possibly be a matter of life or death, yet Owen couldn't.

Not knowing what else to do, he resigned himself to the altered state with simple elegance. Owen could fight with or without clear vision. Briefly, he wondered if Grayson sabotaged him just in order to have Owen back in his own graces.

His thoughts had no more time to roam because seconds later, he kicked off his vehicle. Owen had barely noticed his climb up the unsteady mountain that undoubtedly and eventually led to the Jurassic Lab. Looks like it was time to tango.

Owen's feet left no footprints in the dust-like ground due to the lightness of their nature. Indistinguishably, he made his way to the front door. _Yes,_ the front door. Not everything had to be through scary, cryptid entrances.

Unfortunately, Owen was met with a keypad demanding an ID. Okay, never mind. Damn, guess everything did have to be scary cryptid.

Sighing, he stepped back and examined the building. It was seemingly smooth, polished and white. There was no way he could climb it without anything to grip on to. Especially since there were no window sills or air condition units protruding to allow any cat leaps or the such. 

Glancing at his surroundings, Owen heaved a heavier sigh with the simple notice of one thing: he had to climb a goddamn tree. Crawling his way with practiced ease up the rough bark of one of the tallest he could find, Owen finally arrived at a sustainable branch.

With retirement in mind, he leaped onto the building edge after taking a deep breath. Owen's fingertips scrabbled at the side of the rooftop before they found steady purchase and he pulled himself over the foot high, cautionary wall. 

As Owen trekked across the rooftop and felt shivers arcing over his body even through his several layers of clothing, he regretted everything and nothing. The unforgiving, bitter chill brought him back to his stark reality with harsh disconnection. Moving forwards, Owen listened to the achingly comforting crunch of gravel beneath his boots. 

Sliding his lockpick out of his sleeve for the sake of noise, Owen kneeled down and set to work on the unguarded door. It was over a in jiffy, but he wouldn't have minded if it took a lifetime. 

The creaking open of the whitewashed door revealed saturated, yellow lighting and a long flight of boring stairs emitting a strangely abandoned smell. Owen exhaled in aggravation though part of him welcomed the extended distraction. With his hard set goal in mind, he began parkouring his way down to the ground level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could I have finished it in this chapter? Yes. Did I? No.


	15. Chapter 15

When Owen's feet hit the floor, he immediately began making his way towards the main lab. He had studied the building's blueprints, so he was pretty confident in his abilities to navigate through the side hallways without getting caught. Alas, as he was sneaking silently through perhaps the third corridor, Owen ran into a security guard. 

"Code-!" the guy started before Owen threw a disk at his temple. 

He obviously could have launched a knife into his throat, knocked his head against the wall, or shot him etc., but that would have either created a gurgling noise, an obnoxious bang, or that soft "pftt" sound that emitted from silencers. He needed something that would cease all noise. Of course, the disc-shaped bomb made a thud when it skidded across the hallway, but that was minor. 

Kneeling over the downed man's body, Owen retrieved the walkie-talkie. He winced, hesitating before he spoke and went with a simple, "Green. Code Green down here." 

Side hallways didn't have security cameras, so it wasn't like they could see him and realize he wasn't the right guy. Owen waited with bated breath for the affirmative to ring across the other side.

"Got it, Moore. Patrol to the east side then come back. Boss needs everyone."

"Okay."

Heaving Moore over his shoulders, Owen contemplated. Hopefully, "boss" was either Wu or McGrath, though he was leaning towards the scientist.

Upon finally arriving at a door, Owen tossed the guard onto the white-washed floor and pulled out his prized lockpick. Twisting the door handle open, the concealed space was revealed to be a cleaning supply closet. Before shoving Moore inside, Owen snatched his communicator and keys, and then he began to pat the man down. Owen's search ended up with him finding a phone, and a piece of paper. He wasn't sure what it was, but he definitely wasn't leaving it with Moore. After confiscating the chosen items, Owen lifted Moore into the closet.

"Sorry, man." he said unregretfully as he locked the door again. "Can't have you telling anyone I'm here."

* * *

Owen had finally managed to find air vents to hide himself in after a probable ten minutes of searching for them. Undoubtedly, he should have payed more attention to where they were located when he was studying the blueprint. Owen had incorrectly assumed that a metal grate smack dab in the middle of a wall would have been simpler to see. 

He had crawled through the strangely crisp and clean ducts, trying not to breath because of the strange smell. It wasn't necessarily bad, just a bit overwhelming. Owen was honestly trying his hardest not the slam his fist into the wall in frustration. He couldn't figure out which way to go. The dude on the walkie-talkie said east, but finding east in a closed unit of space was harder than it seemed. 

Owen sat back with a groan before he remembered something. Useless as it might have looked, perhaps the paper he snagged from Moore held some piece of key information. Reaching into his back pocket, Owen pulled out the white sheet and unfolded it methodically. Upon being unveiled, he could see it was a schedule with a small director at the bottom.

Moore's directions to the east hallway from the west hallway and then onto the meeting place was mapped out in red marker. Owen hadn't wasted his time travelling to the now infamous east hallway, so he unfortunately wouldn't be able to follow those directions. However, he was a world class assassin and it wouldn't be hard for Owen to figure it out himself with the miniature map's assistance. 

Shuffling forwards, he figured he had a fifteen minute crawl give or take until he got there. Hopefully he wouldn't be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also short, but I figured I updated like four days ago and I might just ride out the story by doing shorter but more frequent updates. We don't have much left!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys... i am so sorry. I have literally been so INCREDIBLY busy lately its insane. I haven't had any time to post at all. As much as i'm sure you would all love a list of everything i have been up to, you'll probably like a chapter more :)

The grate before Owen was riddled with dust and probably really weird secrets scientists discussed with one another. He could hear multiple voices from the ground beneath him-being separated by a mere layer-, but it was nearly impossible to see clearly. And don't get Owen started on that, " Impossible is just I'M possible" bullshit because it was bogus and he despised it with every sinful inch of his soul. 

It didn't take long of listening to passing phrases for Owen to have enough. He kicked in the grate and bullets flew.

* * *

Owen stood in a small, not very inclusive circle with Sydney, Matt, and Lauren. A tiny part of him was allowed to feel relief, but he refused to let himself have even that for long. He had yet to see Grayson, and even though that was technically the deal, Owen felt on edge. 

After garnering his balance and bearings when he had landed on the floor of that damn lab, he took care of everyone that needed taking care of- not dead Owen was mostly sure- and managed to stick the antidote slipped to him into Katie McGrath's thigh. She had passed out and some of Grayson's goons showed up, but not the man himself. 

Claire approached then, looking tired and on the verge of tears with relief and unadulterated sadness. "She doesn't remember much. It's like... God, she's acting like a kid." She rambled with her hands. "They-they said it was some age regression. From the trauma or something. I don't- I don't-"

Sydney stepped out of the way subtly to allow Lauren to step in with her comforting touches and words. She never was one for mushy shit. 

Owen didn't blame her. He could certainly help someone emotional in a pinch, but if he couldn't even deal with his own issues, he sure as hell couldn't deal with someone else's. 

Matt, arms crossed and uncannily silent, spoke up then. "I think- my parents could take her in. You know, until she gets better... or if she...doesn't. They both dealt with this sort of thing. Well, obviously not _this,_ but they worked with patients with Stockholm Syndrome, people called 'littles', and autistic children and teens. That sort of stuff. They've retired out in the country. It's quiet and my parents won't ask too many questions. She'll be safe."

Owen had been glaring at ground so intently he didn't realize everyone was staring at him until he chanced a glance upwards. 

"Oh, um, yeah." he startled. "That actually sounds really great. Thanks, man..."

Owen settled back, content to let the silence stand. He watched from afar as there was a hustle and bustle of an extreme variation of folks. He almost wanted to laugh at the FBI agents intently interrogating different technicians, lab assistants, and doctors. Huh. All that effort just to find him.

It wasn't until the impression of his friends' eyes glued to his form became palpable that Owen released his eyes from their steady vigilance. He smiled sheepishly. 

"So I guess I owe y'all an explanation, huh?"

"Yes, you fucking do, you bastard," Lauren called.

* * *

In retrospect, Owen really wished he had realized Grayson slipped a tracker able to activate Number 17 into his arm when he was unconscious the first time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really happy with this chapter, but I guess this is it. Despite the ending, there will not be a sequel. I just couldn't resist ending it like that. Thank you all so much for the love and appreciation! xoxo


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